Hail to the King
by Hoodoo
Summary: Upset at store clerks? You'd better believe it. sillyfic


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Marvel does. It's a good thing too, or they'd be going through stuff like this all the time.

One note: this is a true life adventure story. I only replaced actual people with Marvel's because—hey, who wants to read about me? But it really did happen. The conversation with the clerk is verbatim. Also, I certainly hope someone else out there gets the title, and where it's from. A little mystery for you! haha VBG

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

****

Hail to the King

"I'm back!" Logan called as he kicked the door shut behind him.

Hank eyed the plastic bag dangling from one hand. "I can't believe that sort of thing interests you, my brusque friend. Wouldn't a stimulating work out in the Danger Room be sufficient?"

"Nah. That gets kinda boring, ya know? But here," Logan shook the bag at the blue mutant and winked, "here I have a whole new personality. And new weapons ta master! It keeps you on your toes, Beastie."

Hank snorted. "I'll have to take your word on that. I believe your fellow addicts are already in the game room."

Logan hurried through the kitchen to the aforementioned room. Kurt and Remy were in front of the television. They turned as he entered. The question on their faces was evident.

"Don't worry—I got it."

Kurt disappeared with a slight *BAMF* and reappeared at Logan's side. He snatched the bag from his hand and teleported back to the couch.

"I'm sorry I wasn't walkin' fast enough for you," grumbled Logan as he joined them.

With excitement, Kurt had already loaded a disc into the console by the time Logan sat down. Remy had grabbed the instructions from the case.

"I should get the first round, elf. I went out an' picked it up. Last one too. Gimme the controller."

"Nein!" Kurt replied, watching the opening credits. _"I_ suggested the game. _You_ offered to go."

Growling, Logan made a move to grab it. Kurt quickly yanked the controller out of reach. A brief struggled ensued. Logan won, but only by clutching the cord before Kurt had a chance to yank it from the console and teleport away.

Logan eased himself to the floor in front of the couch, smiling, as Kurt pouted.

"You know, mis amis," interrupted the cajun, "Remy dinks dis game be mighty difficult to play."  


"That's why we rented it before we bought it. If it sucks, we just take it back."

"No," Remy continued, flipping through the instruction booklet. "We rented _Evil Dead: Hail to de King,_ and dese instructions be for _Resident Evil_. An' we have a Playstation—dese also be for Sega Dreamcast."

"What?!" exclaimed Logan and Kurt together. 

Logan snatched the booklet away. "Lemme see that." He paged through it quickly. "Son of a—! What kinda video store can't keep elementary stuff like that straight!"

"Even I could make sure the right instructions are placed with the right games, and my native tongue is German!" Kurt supplied, looking over Logan's shoulder.

"That's it! I'm goin' back ta that video store an' givin' them a piece of my mind!" Logan reached over and popped the disc from the console. He gathered up the entire package and stomped from the room, muttering, "Dumb ass clerks! Don't know _Evil Dead_ from _Resident Evil_—they sure will when I'm done—"

"Do you think he'll kill them?" Kurt asked aloud.

"Hope not. Den we _never_ get to play."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The line at the video store counter was long, and Logan tapped his foot impatiently as he waited. He chomped peevishly on a cigar. By the time he reached the counter, he'd gone through the conversation with the clerk several times in his head. Several scenarios ended with the store in flames and himself splattered in blood, laughing maniacally standing on a mound of bodies.

But the clerk was teenaged, and running him through probably wouldn't be productive.

"May I help you sir?" he asked brightly. He noticed the cigar. "Oh, I'm sorry. We don't allow smoking in the store."  


Maybe running him through wasn't a bad idea . . . Logan willed himself to be civil.

"It ain't lit," he replied, talking around the butt. "Now lissen, I've got two problems."  


The kid was aware enough to look concerned.

Logan dropped the game case down on the counter. "One. This game is _Evil Dead: Hail to the King._ The instructions inside are for _Resident Evil_. Two. Now only are the instructions for the wrong game, they're for the wrong game _system._"

The clerk studied the booklet. "I'm sorry, sir," he said apologetically. "Once the instructions are gone, they're gone."

Under Logan's glare, he cleared his throat and offered, "I can give you a refund?"

"Can you look in Dreamcast's _Resident Evil_ box and see if the other instructions are there?" Logan suggested sarcastically. "Maybe there was a mix-up?"

Shrugging, the clerk agreed. "I can look, but they're not going to be there. Like I said, when they're gone, they're gone." As he walked away, he called, "You're lucky you got instructions at all!"

"Lucky?" muttered Logan half under his breath. "I'm so lucky I get the wrong freakin' instructions for the wrong freakin' game for the wrong freakin' game system! That's lucky all right!"

He watched the clerk open and look through the cases systematically. Suddenly the kid's expression was surprised.

"Well what do you know! Here it is!" he exclaimed, and walked back behind the counter.

"Imagine that."

"Would you still like to rent the game?"

The stare Logan gave him was incredulous. Bluntly he replied, "Yes."

"Great!" The kid was oblivious to the sarcasm. "Here's a new bag." Triumphantly he slid the correct game with the correct instructions into the plastic. He grinned broadly as he handed the bag to Logan.

Logan didn't return the smile, only gave the kid an I-can't-believe-they-pay-you look, which the clerk again didn't catch. He took the bag and started for the door.

"Hey," the clerk called cheerfully after him, "do you want a job? We get problems like that all the time."

"You couldn't pay me enough to deal with customers like me," Logan replied. 

The visions of fire and blood were still fresh. It wasn't too late. He could turn around, vault over the counter, and literally wipe the face off the kid—

"Nah," Logan interrupted himself, shaking his head. "I wanna finally play this game."

****

Fin


End file.
